


The Language of Birds (Is Insults)

by completelyhopeless



Series: Two Circus Birds [11]
Category: DCU, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Gen, Humor, a bit of angst, i will probably regret posting this in the morning, kind of, phil would rather be dealing with 0-8-4 furballs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:55:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2856647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/completelyhopeless/pseuds/completelyhopeless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys cope with their hearing loss by inventing words in sign language to drive Bruce and their new tutor, one very put-upon Phil Coulson, crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Language of Birds (Is Insults)

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted the boys to have some fun again. I also wanted more Marvel characters to have a part in things. I swear Natasha will have one once she's Clint's partner, but that's years down the road, and it's been hard to find a good way to bring in the Marvel side since everything got focused in Gotham.
> 
> Well, I found a way. And I should tell Phil I'm sorry for putting him through this when he's just a rookie agent fresh out of the academy. No one deserves the kind of pranks these two would play.
> 
> Though really, this wasn't as... um... cracky when I first came up with the idea. It was all legitimate and everything. I'm not sure what happened.

* * *

“How is the new tutor working out for you guys?” Barbara asked, picking up one of Alfred's cookies and biting into it with a moan that Clint would have nudged Dick for if he'd heard it. Clint liked to needle him about their friendship since he knew how Dick felt about everyone else making wrong assumptions about them. Not that Dick wasn't just as guilty. He'd assumed it was just pity with Babs, and he'd been wrong. She genuinely cared.

What other person would insist on learning sign language with them? Not one that wasn't a friend, that was for sure.

“He was born in a suit,” Clint said, frowning again when he finished. Dick had to resist the urge to nod and tell him he sounded fine. For one, Dick didn't know. His own hearing loss made everything sound a bit off because he got mono sound, not stereo. For two, he knew it was insulting when he did.

He watched Clint fiddle with his bow again, hating this. Dick knew that he was having a harder time with the silence than he wanted to admit. Dick was still struggling himself, mostly because he kept losing his balance. He hated it. He had always had perfect balance before. He could do flips and somersaults and fly on the trapeze. He used to be able to land with ease. He didn't fall. He finished with a flourish. Only now he couldn't walk like a normal kid, and he knew it was worse for Clint. He couldn't hear at all, and his aim was off. Clint, who had eyes of a hawk and never missed, he couldn't hit _anything._ His shots were off, and he missed the target completely sometimes. It was wrong.

With that weighing on his friend, Dick would do anything to make him smile. It wasn't right that he should have to suffer because of Dick. If he hadn't been trying to convince Clint to join his school and accept being Bruce's ward like Dick was, then Clint would never have been there for those criminals to get.

And Clint used to worry that being _Robin_ would get Dick in trouble. What got them both in trouble was Dick Grayson.

Clint nudged him, signing quick enough to annoy Babs, especially when he added in one of their words and not one from any recognized sign language on the planet. _Stop that, idiot. This isn't your fault._

 _Barney would blame me,_ Dick signed back.

 _My brother's a bigger idiot than you are,_ Clint said, adding in a kick with his foot. _And you're a dick._

In spite of himself, Dick laughed. Babs shook her head. “You're terrible. Both of you.”

“Comes with being boys,” Dick said. “I think a very smart girl told me that once.”

She grinned back at them, going for another cookie. “She's right. Still, you didn't have to make sure that the first words you both learned to sign were cuss words.”

“Oh, please, what really bothers Bruce is when we add in words we made up,” Dick said, using the sign for a species of dinosaur that they'd come up and couldn't decide if it was an insult or not. If dinosaurs really had small brains, then it should be, but Clint said that history had to be wrong about dinosaurs and somehow they'd ended up on the floor wrestling with each other until Alfred looked at Bruce and Batman ordered them to take it to the cave.

 _Idiot,_ Clint said with his hands, laughing. Barbara rolled her eyes at both of them before her smile softened into something fonder.

“You're probably sick of people asking by now, but... you're both really okay, right?”

Clint nodded. “Fine.”

Dick almost snorted because Clint would say he was fine if he was cut up and bruised and bleeding and maybe even about to die, but he held that back, not wanting to think about Swordsman and how this whole mess started. “It's not that bad. Really. I got off easy. It just sucks because Bruce is in overprotective mode most of the time, always reaching out to steady my balance. He watches Clint so close he's carrying around his bow all the time and ready to shoot him when he won't back off.”

“I don't know that you can blame him,” Barbara said. “What happened was scary. I... I didn't know if you were going to wake up again, Dick. If you'd heard the way your head hit that table, you'd have thought...”

Dick swallowed. Clint stiffened.

Barbara winced and turned to Clint, forcing her hands into the words she knew. She didn't have the same vocabulary they did, but she cared enough to learn to sign for both of them, and that meant everything to Dick. She _was_ his friend, and she was trying to be a friend to Clint, too. “Sorry. Repeat?”

Clint shook his head, gesturing to his lips. He was a hell of a lot better at reading lips than Dick was. Stupid hawk eyes. Clint was sharp enough to read the changes in lips. Dick wasn't. He tried, but he really had to watch and have no distractions and needed context most of the time.

She nodded, but she still looked upset. “I wish I was better at this and remembered to do it instead of speaking out loud.”

“This,” Dick said, forcing himself to sign at the same time, “isn't easy. Translators have to train really hard to do it. I read that in all the stuff they gave us for this and the doctors told us the same thing. The speech therapist, I mean. I don't like her.”

“She's an alien,” Clint said, grimacing when he did. “Do I still sound weird?”

Dick shrugged. Everything still sounded weird to him, and he was told it would be like that unless Lucius was able to come up with a good hearing aid for him. Dick had said he wanted Clint to get them first—Clint needed them more, and he would get them first.

“Sourpuss face,” Clint said, and that _did_ sound funny, taking Dick a moment to realize what he'd said. He lifted up his bow and pointed to the building across from them. 

“I miss flying,” Dick admitted. He didn't know if he could nail a landing anymore, and he knew that if Robin didn't get back out there soon, people would either connect the dots and realize who Dick was or they'd start thinking he was dead. He didn't know that he believed Bruce wouldn't take Robin from him because he couldn't hear.

“Roof.”

“Guys,” Barbara said, wincing again. “I know I'm the oldest and have a responsibility to talk you out of this—”

“Can't hear you,” Clint said, getting to his feet and grabbing his bow, starting to prep it.

“At least he's laughing about it a little,” Dick told Barbara, who shook her head. “You know you're not our babysitter, right? You won't get in trouble even if we do.”

“Dick, if you flip off and miss that rope—”

“I won't,” he said. He could hear his mother's scream when he thought about it, and he wasn't going to do that. He missed his parents, but he didn't feel like dying like them. He'd use his grappling hook instead, even if he preferred being able to do tricks. “I bet you'd like flying if you came up with us, Babs. Want to give it a try?”

“I am afraid that will not happen,” Alfred said from the doorway. “Both of you are late for your lessons.”

Barbara gave them both a smile. “Guess I'd better go, then.”

“Hey, you could be stuck with the suit, too. Charity brats staying together and all.”

She laughed, swiping another cookie on her way out the door. Alfred pointed to the bow. “That stays here this time, Master Clinton.”

Dick absolutely refused to translate what Clint signed in response to that.

* * *

Clint folded up his paper into an airplane and aimed it at the tutor's back. He let it fly and told himself he didn't miss the snicker he knew Dick hadn't held back when he saw him do it. Clint had to try and not think about the absence of sound. It was hard. Everything was gone. Dick hadn't lost all of his hearing, and it helped not to be alone, but Dick still had one good ear. It wasn't the same.

And if Clint caught him blaming himself for it again, he'd have to kick him. Again. Even if Dick was Robin, the so-called Boy Wonder, he could _not_ have predicted that a gang was going to attack his school and take him and everyone else hostage.

The worst part of it all was being in this silence gave Clint way too much time to think about his mistakes. Dick needed him, that much was clear and he didn't know that he would ever feel right about leaving his friend because even though Batman shaped up, the guy still didn't have a clue of what to do with kids. At least Dick would have Babs and Alfred if Clint had to go—and he did, he had to do something about that guard that had died, and it would not be sending some of Wayne's money to his family—but after losing his hearing, that wasn't enough for Dick.

It wasn't enough for Clint.

The two of them had their own language, and it was probably the only thing keeping Clint sane right now. He needed to practice more, get his aim back even with his hearing gone, and he needed to find Swordsman. He hadn't forgotten about that, but he'd never thought about how much his hearing affected him until it was gone.

It was like torture watching Dick, too, because he was stiff all the time, not risking his usual tricks and bouncing around in that way that was pure Dick because he was off-balance and couldn't land.

Still... the silence was the worst.

“Mr. Barton?”

The suit was standing in front of him. He hadn't heard anything. Great.

“Did you do any of today's lesson?”

“No, I wrote an essay about how you were born in that suit since you never wear anything that isn't a suit and there's something wrong with that because, hello, you're tutoring a couple of kids in the house of Bruce Wayne and why would you wear a suit?”

“Alfred wears a suit.”

“Shut up, Dick. That's not the point.”

Dick signed something involving a dinosaur and a toothpick that was physically impossible, and Clint laughed when he realized what Dick was actually saying. For a moment, Coulson actually looked like he understood it, and a pained wince crossed his features.

“I know they sent you because you were fluent in A.S.L, but I just threw out two random words. Don't look at me like I just told you to screw yourself,” Dick said, leaning back in his chair. He gave the suit a winning smile. “You know, Bruce does pay you by the hour, so if we don't learn anything, you get to stick around longer and get paid more.”

Clint missed the inflection in Dick's voice. That would have been priceless to hear.

The silence was getting to him again.

Coulson looked at each of them in turn. “You are supposed to be keeping up with the education you would be getting if you were at school. You've been given a special environment—”

“Because we're _deaf._ Just say it. Don't dance around it, Suit. I may not be able to hear you, but you don't have to avoid the subject because of me. And Dick can still hear you.”

“You just sound funny,” Dick told him. “I blame the suit.”

Coulson frowned. “What is your obsession with my suit?”

“I know a lot about suits,” Dick said. “Yours is a mask. You wear it, and it hides things but never as much as you think it does. All clothes are an act. Some send different messages than others, cover other sins. All acts. Like those idiots that took us, playing at being street thugs, but their clothes didn't fit with their tech and someone used them, but who cares, right? It's all just clothes.”

_You want to tone it down, little birdy? What the hell was that, anyway?_

_Time to fly,_ Dick signed back, and before Coulson could react to stop either of them, Dick was opening the window and flipping right out of it. Clint shook his head, knowing that even if it was only the second floor, Dick could hurt himself if he missed that landing. He jumped out right behind him.

“You know that was stupid,” Clint muttered, checking over his leg to make sure he hadn't broken or twisted anything.

Dick nodded. _It was, but I don't trust the suit. Come on. It's past time Robin was seen again._

“This is going to end badly.”

“Clint, what in our lives hasn't ended badly?”

“Good point.”

* * *

Phil did his best to follow the kids he was supposed to be watching, but he wasn't an insane acrobat or an archer with a death wish. He was an agent with training that told him jumping out of a second story window was doable if necessary but a stupid risk if it wasn't, and when he added in the loss of his cover, one that seemed to be in jeopardy already, he'd opted for running down the stairs instead.

The yard was empty. The boys were gone. That would have been a relief, but for the first time since he'd been assigned to watch over Wayne's wards, one of them had talked about the attack. It was the opening he'd needed, and he'd blown it.

And Dick Grayson knew a hell of a lot more than he let on most of the time, playing at the act of a carefree circus kid when Coulson doubted he'd been that for a long time. People would laugh if he voiced his theory about the kid, just like they laughed about Captain America.

“Sir, with respect, I should get hazard pay for this.”

“You telling me you can't handle two kids, Coulson? Because if you can't handle two kids, then we may need to rethink your future with this agency.”

Coulson snorted, looking back at the house, his hand in his pocket. He felt eyes on him, and after a minute, he spotted the butler looking out the window at him. That man was a lot more than he appeared. Everyone in this house was. “We both know those are not ordinary children. One of them has an athletic ability that holds a record if not a legend, and the other is the best marksman I've ever seen.”

“I saw your footage of them practicing. I disagree.”

“He's compensating for a recent injury. That kid is going to get his perfect aim back. He almost has it already. Damn brat hit me with a paper airplane today.”

The laughter on the other end of the line didn't amuse him. “They're kids, Coulson. You may still be one yourself, but you can handle this.”

“And if Grayson is Robin and the reason no one has seen him since the attack on the school is Grayson's disability?”

The other end of the line was silent. He should have known they wouldn't listen.

* * *

“At least your tie is useful for something.”

Coming around from whatever knockout gas had come in his window, Phil found it very unamusing that he'd been trussed up with not one but several of his ties, but he said nothing as he found himself looking into Robin's mask. The kid was smaller than he'd thought. S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't usually interfere in the affairs of vigilantes, even if some of them might have been curious or jealous of Batman's gear, but then this sonic gang came on the scene. S.H.I.E.L.D. knew alien technology. They went after it.

Trouble was, Batman—and Robin—had gotten there first, and most of the operation had been destroyed, leaving them no way to trace the tech back to its source until the gang emerged a second time and went after a school.

S.H.I.E.L.D. would have taken control of the hostage situation if Batman hadn't neutralized it, and when Phil allowed himself to take his line of thought regarding Dick Grayson further, he could see why the Bat had intervened. That was his sidekick that was threatened.

“I think my tie is better than your suit.”

Robin shrugged. “I don't expect you to understand. I do expect you to talk.”

Phil shook his head. “I don't know what you think I'm going to say, but I'm just a tutor, and I'd almost think you were one of the boys I'm supposed to teach—”

“Your background is good enough to fool an initial check, but not that good. It doesn't hold up to further scrutiny. The sad part is that I think Phil Coulson is your real name. You might want to work on that,” Robin told him. “If you stop wasting my time, you might not have to admit to your agency that you got taken down by a kid. If you don't... Well, Batman likes hanging people off of things to make them talk when he doesn't use his fists. I hope I'm good enough at math to calculate the right ratio for the rope to keep it from snapping.”

“You're supposed to be a hero.”

“I hang out with a giant bat and fight crime. What part of that makes you think I'm a well-adjusted child?”

Phil shrugged. “You have a point.”

“You came because of that sonic gear, didn't you?” 

“Batman really shouldn't allow you out on your own.”

“Batman is with the Justice League. You get to deal with me. I know there are times when Batman would gladly throw me off a roof, so let's make this simple. You want the sonic gear. If you tell me about your agency, I'll consider helping you. If not, I'll expose your bad cover to Wayne, and between him and Batman, you'll regret using the Wayne brats as your way in, because I'll add in how your suit is your way of covering up that you're a pervert.”

“What?”

“Underage vigilante hero claims that the fake tutor molested him. Yes. That will go very well for you. Especially here in Gotham.”

Phil wanted to rub his head and curse whoever it was that had gotten him into this mess. Was it Fury himself or someone else? “Does Batman have any idea how warped you've become, kid?”

“I doubt it,” Robin answered with complete honesty. “Batman's not good with social cues. Trust me on that. So... the sonic devices. Are they alien? Because I've got a bet...”

Phil groaned.

* * *

“Two words. Hazard pay.”

“Not happening. Now explain why you were out of communication for fourteen hours.”

“Well, I'll put it this way... I think I know a couple of minors that S.H.I.E.L.D. needs to have on their watchlist and should recruit if we can. They need monitoring at the very least,” Phil said, not wanting to discuss how easily he'd been subdued thanks to that knockout grenade or how he'd been tied up by his own ties.

“Again with being unable to handle two children?”

“Oh, they may be all smiles in the classroom right now, but I'm almost positive that Grayson assaulted my apartment last night and while there are other vigilantes that work with arrows, Barton's the one that put an arrow through three of my best ties.” Phil shook his head. “Robin knows the sonic devices were alien.”

“And the source?”

“Something about a dinosaur, I think.”

“What?”

“The kids have their own sign language. I've tried to catalog the extra words they throw into regular sign language, and I'm pretty sure there's an inappropriate euphemism that goes with that dinosaur remark.”

“So a thirteen year old kid told us to screw ourselves?”

“With respect, sir, no one knows how old Robin is. Even if he is Grayson, the boy's birth is not registered anywhere. We don't know how old he is. He could be older and small for his age. I've seen pictures of his father, and I'd guess Grayson will remain on the short side.”

“Coulson—”

“My cover is compromised, and moving another agent in close to Grayson or Barton would be a mistake. However, that said, I think Robin does know the source of the sonic devices and may go after them now that he's uncovered me.”

“How the hell did this happen?”

“Frankly, sir, I think it's the result of those two kids having too much time on their hands and very little adult supervision.”

The call ended, and Phil sighed.

* * *

“Exactly what did you sign at your tutor just now?”

“I told him I was going to miss him.”

Batman was not amused. He had a few things to discuss with his ward regarding his behavior with the tutor, and not the least of it was the night before. “Dick—”

“You owe me, by the way. The sonic devices _were_ alien.”

Next to him, Clint snickered, and though Batman knew more than one sign language, whatever word that was didn't exist in any of them. Dick laughed, and Bruce shook his head.

“You're going to have to translate that.”

Dick and Clint exchanged looks and a flurry of signs that were again not part of normal sign language. Then Dick looked up at him. “Seriously, though, Bruce, why did you let that cover stand if you weren't expecting us to torment the guy and find out what he was really here for?”

Bruce put a hand on Dick's shoulder. “You did good, Robin.”

“Hey!” 

“And you, too, Hawkeye.”


End file.
